


Spare me your dreams

by callmenewbie



Series: Lost hearts in the dead of night [3]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: And Romance, Angst, Established Relationship, M/M, Sort Of, it's always sort of with these two, soothsayer!Jaskier, with a touch of fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-12
Updated: 2020-06-01
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:29:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24148984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/callmenewbie/pseuds/callmenewbie
Summary: “But if you had your mental shield up, how come I could contact you in the first place?”“It’s a specific guard, so to say. It’s always in place, but my mind would never think of you as someone I’d need protection from.”“Oh, Geralt.” Jaskier said touched, but then there was a widening grin on the witcher’s face.“That is only because my brain didn’t know you had any sort of magical abilities that could pick at it in the first place.”OrGeralt and Jaskier are trying to work out the full merits of Jaskier’s powers, unleashing an unexpected danger on themselves.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Lost hearts in the dead of night [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1705615
Comments: 24
Kudos: 202





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> As promised, here is the third installment of the series. If you haven't read the first two, it's still readable I suppose, but there might be some confusion.  
> I've borrowed the title and the starting quotation from the beautiful song Thistle and Weeds by Mumford and Sons.
> 
> Here, have a chapter of sweetness and fluff, gods know I needed it after writing so much angst recently. Although I'm sorry to say that it won't last.

_“Spare me your judgements and spare me your dreams_ _  
Cause recently mine have been tearing my seams”_

*

“Why are we doing this again?” Jaskier asked as they’ve made camp in the woods. He was getting the kindling together for the fire, throwing them in a heap into the shallow hole they dug.

“Because we know too little of your powers.” Geralt said as he cast an igni nonchalantly on the sticks and branches Jaskier collected.

“Well I don’t think there _is_ much more to it, than what we already know.” Jaskier shrugged as he dragged over the already skinned rabbits and rubbed some salt and herbs on their flesh, before putting them on the makeshift skewers.

“I’d rather not risk it.” Geralt said with a grimace and sat down on a broken tree trunk.

“Fine.”

“You heard what Vesemir said. This 'thing' will probably just become more frequent before your transfiguration.”

The thing in question was the fact that throughout the two months that past since they’ve left Kaer Morhen, their travels have been slowed down significantly by Jaskier’s sleeping problem. Well, he didn’t have a problem with sleeping per se, more so with waking up.

According to Vesemir – who knew a few other soothsayers in his time – this might have been a fore sign of his transfiguration, which they knew little to nothing about.

“Yeah, that.” Jaskier said bitterly and kicked into a stone.

“Maybe if we found out how your powers worked, we could find out more about everything else.” Geralt said probably for the umpteenth time, since Jaskier kept getting agitated and complained about it. It wasn’t like he wanted to annoy the witcher on purpose, he was just nervous about all the not-knowing and quite frankly the whole ‘turning into something monstrous’ thing did not help his case at all.

“Yeah, you’re right.” Jaskier sighed. “But I don’t know what’s gonna happen, if despite everything we do, it gets out of hands.”

Geralt stood up and reached out towards him, Jaskier accepted his hand without hesitation and he pulled him into a loose hug.

“That’s fine. We’ll work it out.” Geralt propped his forehead against Jaskier’s.

Over the two decades they travelled together, Jaskier wouldn’t really peg Geralt down as someone, who would be as reassuring as he proved to be in the past months. He didn’t know what he’d do without him.

Later that night they lay down beside each other and as soon as Jaskier drifted off, he stepped into their camp from the outside, looking down on their sleeping forms.

They were doing this for over a month now, on about every fifth night, yet Jaskier still couldn’t really get used to seeing himself from the outside. It just felt wrong.

“Geralt.” As soon as he said his name, the witcher’s yellow eyes snapped open, lighting up like two fireflies in the dark.

“How does it feel?” He asked and Jaskier shrugged.

“The same as always. Any change for you?”

“No.”

Jaskier sighed.

“Hm. I want to see if this will change anything.”

“This? What do you–?” Jaskier’s question’s got interrupted by the shifting of the scenery. “Wow.”

Jaskier was still in a forest, but definitely not in the one they made camp in. The trees around them were impossibly tall; Jaskier couldn’t even see their crowns, let alone the sky from them. The leaves were all bright red and orange, despite the fact that it was spring and the ground was carpeted with bright yellow, living grass, which wasn’t dry at all.

But the weirdest thing of all was the fact, that his body wasn’t translucent anymore. He was actually here. Which prompted the question:

“Where are we?” Jaskier asked in amazement and as his eyes landed on the witcher, there was something impeccable in his expression, he couldn’t quite decipher it, but it seemed like a weird mixture of pride and self-consciousness.

“In my head.”

“What do you mean in your head?” Jaskier asked and he couldn’t help looking around themselves again and again. The view was truly magnificent.

“I figured we’ll never see what you can do, if you’d keep bouncing back from my walls.”

Jaskier cocked his head to the side curiously.

“Walls?”

“My mental shield.” Geralt explained patiently.

“I knew it had something to do with you, I supposed to be ending up in dreams.” Jaskier mused and he didn’t say it out loud, but he actually didn’t mind that it wasn’t the case at all.

There was an amused little smile in the corner of Geralt’s mouth, but he didn’t say anything.

Suddenly a thought occurred to Jaskier.

“But if you had your mental shield up, how come I could contact you in the first place?”

“It’s a specific guard, so to say. It’s always in place, but my mind would never think of you as someone I’d need protection from.”

“Oh, Geralt.” Jaskier said touched, but then there was a widening grin on the witcher’s face.

“That is only because my brain didn’t know you had any sort of magical abilities that could pick at it in the first place.”

“Alright, what do we do now?” Jaskier asked as they walked between the trees.

“We have to find out if you have any sort of powers here. Maybe you can’t wake up, because you don’t know _how_.”

“Okay, so what? You just want me to, I don’t know, try to do magic or something?”

“Or something.” Geralt answered vaguely and they stopped by a green tinted pond, embellished by a wall of brick-sized stones around it. The water was so clear that Jaskier could see the smooth rocks on the bottom.

He thought about what he should try first. This wasn’t a dream after all, but it was closer than he’d ever been. He wanted to do something simple, see if he could change his surroundings.

He picked up a red leaf from the pond’s surface and turned it around in his hand. He had no idea _how_ to do it exactly, but as he didn’t know how to contact Geralt at the very first time, he reckoned he could figure it out, if he just tried to concentrate on it.

He turned the leaf in his hand once, twice and for the third time its colour turned into a vibrant green.

“Geralt, look!” He said excitedly. “I actually did this!”

The witcher smiled at him kindly and it warmed Jaskier’s heart.

“Try something else. Try to conjure something.” Geralt said encouragingly, clearly pleased with the results so far.

Jaskier tried to think of something easy, afraid that if he went all out, it might backfire. He put his palms together and when he opened them there was a blow ball in them. He laughed happily.

“I can’t believe this.” He breathed and Geralt stepped beside him, putting his hand on his shoulder.

“I think the time is up.” He said looking upwards and as Jaskier followed his gaze, he saw the trees becoming fuzzy and the colours fading.

One second he nodded at Geralt, the next he was lying on the ground beside him, barely able to keep his eyes open.

“I did it…” Jaskier mumbled into Geralt’s chest. He distantly felt a soft touch on the top of his head, before he drifted off.

*

_He couldn’t see anything, but white all over anywhere he turned his head; it was like being blinded by pure light._

_His other senses were overwhelmed; his entire body was aching with pain he couldn’t originate from anywhere and he felt horrible fear and despair encircling him. He also picked up the strong smell of blood, smoke and burned flesh._

_The worst part was hearing the muffled sounds and screams around him, death surrounding him from every angle and then there was a voice, amongst all the hubbub; someone calling his name over and over again. He knew that voice, he knew it so well, yet he couldn’t put a finger on it._

_He felt something inside of him change, something that no mortal on this plane could ever experience. An otherworldly touch, making his body and his soul feel too light and too heavy at the very same time._

*

Jaskier woke up in their inn room to bright sunshine breaking through the window and to Geralt blocking it, by hovering over him with an expression filled with irritation and worry.

“It happened again.” He informed him and Jaskier sat up.

Jaskier started to sigh silently, but it turned into a grumpy groan half-way through, because he felt like it. This was getting very embarrassing now.

“I’m sorry.” He said, as he buttoned up his chemise and pulled his top over it.

“It’s not your fault.” Geralt told him, but Jaskier knew that it didn’t change the fact that it slowed them down and might even possibly endangered them.

Jaskier examined the dips between his fingers; seemingly there was still no sign of webbing, nor any extra fur or claws. Sometimes he wished he could just wake up and be over it, even that would have been better, than this waiting for the uncertain.

“I talked to the alderman, there is a cockatrice I have to take care of. I’ll go out before dusk, you’ll stay here and rest.”

“I rested enough.” Jaskier said indignantly and Geralt grunted softly.

They went down to the tavern and ate breakfast, although Jaskier didn’t really have much of an appetite, he was mainly just pushing his carrots from one side to the other on his plate.

He was having this dream over and over, nearly every night by now. It felt more and more like a warning and he had an idea about what it was for, but it only raised questions without answers, so he tried to push it out of his mind when he was awake. It was becoming increasingly harder.

“Come on.” Geralt stood up from their table, when it was clear that Jaskier won’t eat anymore; he finished his own plate a long time ago.

“Where are we going?” The bard inclined without much interest, as he followed him out of the tavern.

“To the market.”

Jaskier was sure that Geralt only wanted to go to the market, because he knew that shopping always cheered Jaskier up. (They stocked up on herbs and salve in the last city they visited about a week ago and Geralt wasn’t even looking at the stalls and their offerings.)

Jaskier walked between the stalls, looking at fabrics, ointment, perfumes, leather bags and boots. But he didn’t need any of those right now. He ended up buying new strings for his lute though; he just never knew when there will be another town where he could find them. They were pretty much up north, but even here the effects of the war were tangible; some towns suffered it more than others.

He had to admit it, in the end it really did cheer him up. But what made him especially happy, was the fact that Geralt understood that he was in a foul mood and he actively tried to do something about it.

When they made it back to their room, as soon as the door clicked shut, Jaskier draped his arms around the witcher’s neck and breathed a soft kiss onto his lips.

“Thank you.”

Geralt looked at him like he didn’t know what he was talking about at first, but then he smiled at him and touched their foreheads together. This was always a sign of affection between them, something that soothed Jaskier every time.

*

“Alright. This time try to conjure something that’s alive.” Geralt told him, as they stood by the pond in the red woods again.

They stood in the yellow grass, littered by dozens of blow balls and different coloured leaves.

“Like a bear or a manticore?”

“Or maybe something that can’t kill us.” Geralt answered sceptically and Jaskier shot him a look, but nodded anyways.

“Fine. I’ll try.”

He tried to concentrate, but it seemed that it was something beyond his level at this point.

They both looked at the brass rabbit on the ground with an inspecting look.

“Well. That’s new.” Jaskier said as Geralt crouched down beside the statue.

“It’s certainly a start.” He looked up at him, but Jaskier was already busy popping flowers from his palms.

The thing was, it could be great fun to just change colours of stuff and conjure flowers, but he wasn’t sure that it helped at all. Sure, they might be getting closer to the merits of his powers, but what if there was no way for him to wake up during his visions? What if no matter what, he’ll turn into a monster soon and all of this was for nothing?

He looked down at the dead dandelion in his hands mournfully. He could tell that Geralt was watching him, even without looking up, but he didn’t know what to tell him.

“I’m sure it’ll be better next time.”

“Maybe.” Jaskier gave it to him offhandedly.

“Listen, I–”

“I know you’re just trying to help,” Jaskier stomped on whatever he wanted to say “but maybe there is nothing to be done about this and we just have to accept that.”

“You don’t know that, if we don’t _try_.” Geralt said seriously as he stood up and Jaskier felt anger rising in him, coming from so deep that he didn’t know exactly what was the source of it.

A sudden windstorm started to rip into the tall trees, whirling the leaves around in the air, picking up the blow balls and rippling the surface of the pond.

“ _You don’t know that! You don’t know anything!_ ” Jaskier was sure it was him who said that, but he couldn’t recognise his own voice, it was deep and had an unfamiliar resonance to it.

When his gaze landed on the witcher, his amber eyes were wide and he looked at him in shock. It was an expression that he seldom seen on Geralt’s face before.

The windstorm stopped as abruptly as it started, making the leaves fall softly like slow rain and Jaskier felt tears welling up in his eyes. He collapsed into the golden grass and fisted it in desperation.

“What is happening to me?” He whispered, looking at his hands.

Jaskier felt Geralt stepping in front of him and enveloping him with his big arms.

“It’s okay. It’s gonna be okay.” He propped his chin on the top of Jaskier’s head and stroked his head softly.

Jaskier started sobbing and he didn’t stop for a long time, even after waking up.


	2. Chapter 2

“Try it.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Come on.”

“What if I hurt you?”

“I highly doubt that’s a possibility.” Geralt said, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“You don’t know that.” Jaskier grimaced.

“Just give it a go. Please.”

Jaskier sighed. It was not fair. Geralt knew he’d do anything if he asked like this and he took advantage of it.

“Fine. But I’m not even sure, if I can.”

“You already did it once.”

“Yeah, not on purpose though.”

Geralt just gave him a meaningful look and Jaskier closed his eyes. He concentrated hard on what he felt the last time, how the wind ruffled the trees and rippled the water.

He could feel the air changing around him and as he opened his eyes, he could see that he did it; he recreated the windstorm – although not nearly as strong as it was the last time.

He wondered if he could do other things too.

It started to rain and he stretched out his arms to feel it and laughed at Geralt happily and the witcher smiled back at him. In a second, he turned the rain into a soft snowfall and he offered his hand to Geralt. Jaskier pulled him closer, to give him a tender kiss; a sort of apology for his temper of late. Their tongues met in a familiar dance, waking up certain parts of Jaskier, although he was sure it was not the aim of this whole exercise.

Jaskier thought about their first kiss, standing in the knee deep snow as he buried his fingers into Geralt’s hair and let himself to be pulled closer by his waist.

“I love you, you know that, right?” Jaskier pulled back an inch, just to be able to look into Geralt’s eyes. There was something shifting through the witcher’s face, surprise and maybe fear, but it all turned into the softest of smiles he has ever seen from him.

Geralt leaned in to give him another kiss, filled with devotion and Jaskier was afraid he’d melt in his arms, before he could wake up.

*

The progress wasn’t fast to say the least, as for one they had to wait days between trying – although with the constant training, now they were able to do it on every fourth night. Jaskier was becoming steadily better to control his surroundings and conjure things, but there were some difficulties.

“I don’t understand.” Jaskier said, staring into the pond.

Now, he was able to create fishes and they were swimming in the water, like they had no problems in the world. They were almost perfect, except for…

“Still no eyes?” Geralt leaned over his back to watch the colourful – and very much eyeless – creatures in the water.

“No.” Jaskier shook his head; he was more puzzled, than disappointed. “However hard I try, something is off. I wish there was a manual for these things.”

“Hm.”

Jaskier turned around and propped his back against the low stonewall that encircled the pond. He touched his palms together and when he opened them, there was a white carnation in them. He tucked it behind Geralt’s ear absentmindedly and popped a blue tulip, then a yellow rose and then a blow ball and another and another. Somehow out of all of the interesting things he could do now, this became his favourite by far.

Geralt just watched him in silence. They were here for a long while now, much longer than usual. Jaskier easily changed the weather into any possibility he could think of, he even conjured up otherwise impossible forces, such as warm snow and dry rain. There were eyeless rabbits and foxes hiding behind the tree trunks and he popped more flowers than he could count.

They came far since the beginning, but there were still times when Jaskier stayed dead asleep for two or three days in a row and he still had no idea how to break out of it. Not to mention the vision that never stopped coming to him.

On the brightside, lately he had dreams about Ciri and although he couldn’t understand everything he saw, he knew that Yennefer arrived at Kaer Morhen. He also saw Hengfors League beating back Nilfgaard; it wasn’t a pleasant dream to say the least, but knowing that people still had fight in them gave Jaskier hope.

“I have an idea.” Jaskier said suddenly and got up from the ground, Geralt followed him with his eyes. “Stay there.”

He walked over to a tree, placed his palm on its trunk and closed his eyes, feeling the rough bark under his fingers. The next second the air was filled with thousands of colourful butterflies, flying out of the mass of leaves, fluttering their wings softly and Jaskier didn’t miss the wander on Geralt’s face. The witcher might not be a sort of person, who was explicitly looking for beauty in the world, but Jaskier knew that he appreciated it greatly.

“See.” He held out his index finger and a pretty yellow butterfly landed on is smoothly. “You can’t even tell, if they have eyes.” He cocked his head to the side as he inspected the little thing, before he gave it a little momentum, sending it back to the air.

He flopped back beside Geralt by the pond and leaned against his side.

“Geralt.”

“Hm?”

“I’m sleepy.” He murmured as he popped a blow ball lazily.

The amazing sight of the thousand butterflies and the red woods disappeared and they were huddled up on their bedrolls, by the long dead fire. Jaskier fisted his last blow ball, as he drifted off to different dreams.

*

Jaskier and Geralt were standing close to the pond, just in case, as the bard summoned a tall fire. It was fascinating to watch it burn, without woods for its base and just the fact that it was keep touching the grass, but did nothing to damage it mesmerised Jaskier. He did this.

It felt real, every time they did this. For the duration of the time they’ve spent here, Jaskier had the privilege to do extraordinary stuff, just like a sorcerer and even though he couldn’t do any of it in the physical world, it always made him feel like he had a purpose.

“So it is true.” Came a cold voice suddenly from their side and as they turned towards it Jaskier saw a man with a beard, wearing a long gown. He didn’t know him, but he suspected nothing good, for the fact that he just appeared in Geralt’s head. As he looked back at him, Geralt’s face was full of terror and he yanked Jaskier behind his back, placing himself between the stranger and the bard.

“The last soothsayer is alive. I looked for a very long time, I started to think that it’s just a myth. But it’s true, isn’t it? And who would have thought our paths will cross again, Geralt?” The man said in awe and it made shiver run down Jaskier’s spine.

“What do you want?” Geralt gritted through his teeth.

“Witcher.” He regarded him with a sweet smile, someone might have given to a friend long seen, but it never reached his eyes. “You must understand that this is something way too powerful and special in your ungainly hands. Just imagine what he could do! Predicting plagues and wars; he could be the key to a stronger, united mankind.”

“Fuck off, Stregobor. He’s just a bard.”

“Forgive me, if I rather believe to my own devices than to take your word for it, witcher.” He smiled at him almost politely.

“You might want to check your _devices_.” Geralt replied maliciously, but then still keeping his eyes on the man, he barked back at Jaskier gruffly. “Jaskier. Wake up. Now.”

“I can’t.” Jaskier whispered with fright.

“ _Now_.”

“How endearing.” Said the man and he raised his hand, clearly about to cast a spell.

“I can’t. I can’t, I don’t know how.” Jaskier repeated in utter terror, shaking his head.

“I know you can, you have to.” Geralt’s voice was urgent and Jaskier tried and tried, concentrating as hard as he could, squeezing his eyes shut and.

Jaskier blinked himself awake terrified and when he opened his eyes Geralt was awake beside him, still looking more afraid than he has ever seen him. Jaskier was not used to Geralt being afraid at all, it wasn’t something that should _ever_ happen.

“What just happened?” He asked urgently, voice shaking just a little, blood rushing in his ears.

“Stregobor.” Geralt said angrily, lying beside him and staring at the ceiling.

“That was Stregobor? The sorcerer who killed innocent girls for myths, that Stregobor?”

Geralt nodded gravely.

“What was he doing in your head? Oh, please don’t tell me it’s my fault.” Jaskier whined.

“It isn’t. But I’m sure he was here because of you.”

“What do you mean?”

Geralt took a quick breath, like he always did when he had to explain something to Jaskier.

“Everything based on magic happens with the usage of chaos. When you connect with it, you gain what you want – cast a spell, a sign, a curse and so on; in exchange for something. There has to be balance. But chaos is also something all magical folks share. It’s something they can be connected through. You don’t have guards up and I relaxed mine… so Stregobor must have dipped into chaos and felt it.”

“What do you mean _felt it_? There are so many people out there using it, I mean, if all magical folks… that’s like all the mages and druids and elves and even monsters, right?” Jaskier asked and Geralt just nodded. “How could he have felt me in that mess?”

“Stregobor has been around for a while. I suppose he can tell if there is someone new touching into it.”

“But I always had my dreams, even since I was little. He never came for me before.” Jaskier said pensively.

“I suppose, if you actually enter someone else’s dream, then you’re using chaos, if the dreams come to you, chaos uses you, so to speak.”

“Alright. So why now? I’ve been visiting you for months.” He spread his arms tiredly.

“Hm.”

Geralt took a long moment to think it through and Jaskier could feel sleep crawling up on him slowly.

“I think my shields have been protecting you too.”

Jaskier looked at Geralt fondly at the thought of being protected by him, but sadly it did not ease his fright at all.

“So what now?”

“I’m not sure.” Geralt answered with a pinched expression. “But we have to get out of here. If there is any chance he knows where we are right now, I’m certain he’ll make a move soon.”

And this definitely didn’t brighten Jaskier’s mood at all.


	3. Chapter 3

For an entire week they were travelling, only stopping for a few hours a day, while Jaskier slept and Geralt stood guard. They haven’t tried to experiment on Jaskier’s power ever since, but Jaskier could tell that Geralt’s mental shields were up all the time. He had to admit, that as much as it hasn’t really led them anywhere, he missed the connection and the intimacy of it all. Such as he missed to be able to conjure all those interesting and beautiful things, against just feeling tired all the time without anything to distract him.

Perla and Roach took the increased speed of their travels a little gruffly, but luckily they seemed to be well-bribed by the oats and sugar cubes Jaskier kept in his saddlebags. Geralt on the other hand was extremely tense and spoke even less than usual, many times almost entirely ignoring Jaskier, as he tried to find the safest route for them, making up for the lack of sleep with short meditation cycles. He tried to hide it, but Jaskier could see that he was tired and he was afraid that if they have to cross ways with the sorcerer, they will stand little to no chance against him at all.

This went on for another week, until Jaskier noticed that Geralt’s movements slowed down in general and his eyes went unfocused for more and more times.

“You have to sleep.” He told the witcher as they dismounted their horses.

“I’m fine.” Geralt grunted out and Jaskier just rolled his eyes.

“No, you’re not.” He put his foot down; he’ll make Geralt go to sleep, whatever it took.

“It would be too dangerous.”

“Yeah, right. Because you falling over with exhaustion will be very helpful, when Stregobor shows up, which we’re by the way not even sure he will.”

“He will, if he finds us.” Geralt grumbled and this was not the point Jaskier was trying to make, so he let it slide for the sake of the argument.

“And then he will kill us, because let’s face it, there is nothing _I_ can do about it and in your current state, neither can you.”

“Hm.”

Geralt walked past him as he tied out Roach and Jaskier could tell that he deemed the conversation over, but the bard refused to let him. He grabbed the witcher’s bicep and stopped him with gentle force.

“I know you think you’re doing this to keep me safe. But you won’t be able to, if you don’t rest. Gods know, you’re stubborn, but don’t play with our lives out of your pride or whatever you’re doing this out of. Please.”

The stared at each other for long moments, without moving, until finally Geralt’s posture loosened somewhat under Jaskier’s hand and he sighed with relief.

“I take an hour. After that, we have to move on. If you hear or see anything; wake me up.”

Jaskier nodded quickly and Geralt found a kind of smooth looking bit on the ground.

“We can’t run forever.” Jaskier said softly, as he sat down a few feet from the witcher.

“No. But we can run, until we figure out what to do.”

Jaskier suddenly felt horribly tired.

“Or you could just leave me behind.”

He didn’t want to be captured, tortured and perhaps even killed, he really planned on living much longer than that, but he didn’t want to endanger Geralt any further.

“Don’t be stupid Jaskier.” Geralt’s agitation was clear from his tone.

“I’m not being stupid! If you leave me now, if I won’t use my powers anymore, there is a chance he’ll never find me. And if you don’t know where I am, then he’ll leave you alone at least.”

“He won’t. If he won’t come after me for you, he’ll do it for something else. Don’t worry about me.” Geralt said much softer now and Jaskier watched as his eyes slowly fluttered shut with the weight of his exhaustion, proving Jaskier right. “It’s all gonna be okay, I promise.” He added groggily and then his breathing became even.

The bard stayed by his side, sitting on the ground and listening to anything alarming, but beside the soft wind ruffling the trees and tiny rodents running around in the low bushes, he heard nothing.

He put his palms together and then opened them over and over again. He thought about the flowers he was able to create in the red woods; just the mere movements calmed him somewhat. He looked at the witcher’s peaceful expression thoughtfully and wondered just how long they’ll have to go on like this. Running away without much rest was already taking its toll on both of them and the horses too. He couldn’t imagine what it’d do to them after a month or two.

But what other chance they had? They should look for help, at the very least. Geralt was clearly not thinking himself a match for Stregobor’s power (and insanity) and he might have been wrong, but even Jaskier had his worries. He might not know this particular sorcerer, but he clearly remembered the story of Blaviken, even though Geralt told him only once. These sort of people always had their own peers and followers. There was definitely no way they could take on more than one, even if Geralt was in his top condition.

He chewed on his bottom lip in worry and tried to think positively; at least there was no way for the sorcerer to find them, until they haven’t touched chaos. Geralt was careful not to even use igni, when they set a fire and without Jaskier’s nightly visits in his head, they supposed to be invisible to Stregobor.

He closed his palms and then opened them again.

They stayed away from civilisation as much as they could, barging through forests and taking hidden roads, avoiding any other travellers or merchants.

He closed his palms and then opened them again.

Maybe they should turn to Novigrad, if there was one safe city anywhere on the Continent, it must be that. He was sure they would never let a man like Stregobor take a step inside of the city walls. If they made it there, maybe they could just look for someone who could take care of their situation, or better yet, never leave. Jaskier could make enough coin by singing, even if Geralt wouldn’t take any contracts, it would be enough for the both of them. Jaskier never really liked to stay in one place for too long, but he supposed it might not be the worst thing after all.

He closed his palms and then opened them again. There was a single blow ball.

Jaskier studied it first with amazement, then with giddy pride. He never thought he could do this, while awake and just what if he could do all the other things too? Maybe he could actually be helpful.

He turned to Geralt and bit down on his bottom lip. His hour wasn’t up yet and he didn’t want to wake him, but it will be the first thing he’d tell him then.

He settled back on the ground and turned the flower in his hand curiously. Maybe Geralt was right, there might actually have been parts of his powers that they haven’t found out about yet. He wondered about what Geralt had told him a few weeks back, about how every magical folk was connected to chaos. As the only soothsayer in existence, he wasn’t sure where his place was on the grand scale of magic. Was he closer to sorcerers and druids or maybe after his transfiguration would he be classified as a monster?

Than a more worrying thought occurred to him, making him break out in cold sweat. He looked at the flower again and felt a little sparkle crawling through his fingertips. Did he just connect to chaos? Did he accidentally put a target on their backs?

He had no other choice; he had to wake up Geralt.

He reached out, but before he could touch the witcher, a swirling portal appeared under him, pulling him inside. He didn’t even have time to call for help.

*

Geralt woke up and he had to admit – even if reluctantly so – that Jaskier was right. He felt much more focused now, after his sleep. But now it was time to move on.

When he looked around he couldn’t see the bard anywhere. His horse was still there, so were his bags and there didn’t seem to be anything out of the ordinary.

He called out his name a couple of times, but he couldn’t even hear his heartbeat anywhere near.

_Fuck_. Why did he listen to Jaskier, he should have known that something will happen. But how could Stregobor have found them? They were ever so careful, Geralt made sure of that.

He spotted a stray blow ball on the ground; it was thorn, missing half of its fluffy seeds, but that wasn’t unusual at all. On the other hand, there was at least a month until dandelions stared to bloom.

Now he knew how Stregobor found them. There was only one place he could have taken Jaskier; unfortunately that was the only place Geralt vowed to never return again.


	4. Chapter 4

When Jaskier landed, it was on hard stone floor, with a big thump and a whimper. Before he could have a chance to look around and take in his surroundings, he felt a strong, dull pain on the back of his head and then everything went dark.

The next time he came around, he was sitting in a chair, tied down, all of his muscles feeling sore. He was in a garden, one seemingly well-tended to and filled with rather beautiful and rather _naked_ women. Was this some sort of fancy brothel? Or they might have just changed them, after all he hasn’t visited one in a very long time.

He heard footsteps from behind and he tried to turn around, but he was tied to his chair tight enough that it wouldn’t permit much freedom of movement.

“So you are awake. I was starting to get worried that my boys have treated you harsher, than necessary. I apologise for that, in any case, you must understand that it was a necessary course of action.”

Jaskier found himself in one of those very rare situations, where he didn’t know what to say. So he just listened to Stregobor.

“You’ve been out for nearly three days now. Of course, I heard that soothsayers had certain… traits to say, when it came for sleeping, but I never had the luck to meet one myself.” The sorcerer’s voice was calm and measured, if Jaskier wouldn’t have been tied to a chair, he might have actually believed that he meant no harm. But as in fact, he was in more of a hostage situation, he had no false hopes about what he could expect from the man. He asked anyways.

“What do you want from me?” His voice was hoarse from not using it for apparently three days. Gods, he hoped at least Geralt was safe. Although even if he was, he had the suspicion that he’ll try to save him and get in danger anyways. Jaskier always thought that Geralt would make a great knight, if not for the, well witchering.

“Oh, nothing complicated, of course. You hold a great power in your hands, it is something that could aid humanity in ways, that no one else has been able to serve in centuries.”

“I’m flattered, but I think you have me confused with someone else.”

Stregobor planted both of his hands on Jaskier’s thighs and leaned horrifyingly close to his face, pushing down on his legs with much more force than would be strictly necessary.

“Believe me, when I say this: there is no need to be humble now.” This was undoubtedly a threat, except Jaskier wasn’t entirely sure of the conditions he supposed to fulfil to avoid the again _very_ uncertain consequences.

“What do you expect me to do? You’re insane, if you think–” Stregobor slapped him across the face, his seal ring hitting him right on the lips. He could feel blood trickling down the side of his mouth almost instantly.

“Do not think, that I will tolerate your nonsense, in favour of your powers.” He hissed at him and Jaskier took quick, shallow breaths. He was afraid that he might just be thoroughly and utterly fucked.

In that case. He might as well be honest.

“I don’t give an ounce–” Stregobor punched him in the stomach with a fist, surely leaving a ring shaped bruise on his skin. “Who do you think–” The sorcerer punched him again, this time in the face, breaking the skin on his cheek. “Whatever you’re trying to accomplish–” He punched him again and he bit the inside of his cheek.

“Are you quite done?” The man asked and Jaskier just spit out a mouthful of reddish saliva and smiled up at him as much as he was able with quickly swelling lips.

“You insolent fool.” Stregobor snarled at him. “You could do a great service to the world, but don’t think I don’t have other means to use it. What do you think your dear witcher friend would take the sight of your body turned inside out? Or perhaps having your limbs scattered around the tower, as a _welcome_? Hm?”

Jaskier swallowed with a big gulp. He desperately wished he’d have a way to contact the witcher and tell him don’t come and don’t look back. But he doubted he’d get any sleep any time soon and knowing Geralt as well as he did, he won’t sleep and possibly won’t even meditate until he got here.

He felt so hopeless, the only thing keeping him from crying in his frustration was the thought of Stregobor’s satisfied expression that would no doubt follow.

“Just as I thought.” The sorcerer nodded, interpreting Jaskier’s silence as cooperation. “Soon, you’ll realise we want the same thing. And it won’t even hurt that much – or maybe it will. I’m afraid my sources might not be reliable.” He shrugged, like it was no big deal, when in fact Jaskier thought very much otherwise. “But we shall wait to our friend to arrive. I wouldn’t have him missing the show. Until then, enjoy the view.” The sorcerer waved with his hand and Jaskier felt harsh fabric straining his lips apart, essentially gaging him and then he walked away, leaving Jaskier in the company of his own thoughts and some empty eyed, naked ladies.

How was it that every time he got in trouble with sorcerers, there were always so much bare skin to look at, but no appetite to enjoy it.

Jaskier hasn’t got the faintest idea what Stregobor was talking about, but he had a strong feeling that he didn’t want to know. It was very typical that his latest visions were nothing personal, except of course for the one that visited him every single night. But he very well hoped that it had nothing to do with Stregobor’s threats.

*

Geralt was about six days from Blaviken, four and a half if he made haste. And that he planned to do.

He tied Perla’s bridle to Roach’s saddle and started galloping as fast as they could go this way. He had no time to lose.

Geralt was sure that Stregobor wouldn’t kill Jaskier, but there were many things that were worse than death. And with every minutes lost, Jaskier might be in excruciating pain without Geralt to save him from it.

He tied out the horses in a hidden part of the forest nearby, pulled up his hood and hid his medallion inside his armour. He entered Blaviken, trying to go as unnoticed as possible, but somehow he doubted that Stregobor didn’t have people all over the town, knowing full well he was coming.

Someone stepped in his way and a painfully familiar face appeared in front of him, suddenly rendering Geralt mute. Marilka.

“Geralt. I told you to never come back.” Her voice was deeper, than the last time he heard it, she was much older as well; he reckoned she must be about forty or forty-five, but she still had a youthful aura around her – maybe it was made of Geralt’s memories and nothing else.

“Stregobor made me come back. He took something important from me.”

She nodded solemnly.

“Yes, he made me aware to expect you. He also made me aware of his plans, once you’ve passed the threshold of his tower.” She didn’t elaborate and Geralt didn’t ask. “Follow me, if you will.”

They walked through the streets of Blaviken, just like all those years ago, when she first led him to Stregobor’s tower. The pictures of Renfri dying in his arms were ever so prominent in his head, ripping a wound anew he thought to be long healed.

He remembered her uneven hair, her cheeky smile from the morning they’ve met, her determination, her strength. Her kiss.

The last time he was in Blaviken, he didn’t just lose a battle and his good name (if he ever had that in the first place), but he had lost so much more than that. Renfri had told him, that he’ll choose and he will never know if it was the right one, but now he was almost entirely sure that it was the wrong one indeed. Now he was back here and the danger of losing someone else important to him hung over his head, like the sword of Damocles.


	5. Chapter 5

They arrived at the gate of Stregobor’s tower and Marilka looked at Geralt patiently, clearly not planning on moving any further.

“Good luck, Geralt.” She told him and Geralt however he tried, couldn’t find insincerity in her voice.

He didn’t know what to expect – besides possible death and torture, before the sorcerer would open him up, to study his specific biology. But he tried not to think too forward into the future; Stregobor was clearly expecting Geralt and maybe if he could just distract him long enough, they’d have a chance of escape, if Jaskier was in the right condition for it, that is.

He had to focus. Thinking about what ifs and impossible situations to no end was not helpful at all and he was here to _help_.

He walked through the door’s illusion.

Geralt found that nothing much changed, since he was last here. Illusions of gorgeous fruit trees and naked women walking around filled his view and Stregobor came to his welcome almost instantly, acting as he was a long awaited guest and not a mortal enemy.

“Geralt. I was wondering, when you’ll finally make it here.”

“Stregobor.” He grunted at the man with barely restrained anger. “Where is Jaskier?”

“Now, now. There is no need to be so hostile, I’m sure that we’ll find the common ground this time, after all, I’m not asking you to kill a monster.” He said pleasantly, ignoring Geralt’s question easily.

“If I recall correctly, you asked me to kill a princess, who was disowned and tortured – thanks to you.”

“She was a monster, foul and dangerous to humanity as a whole.” Stregobor scowled at him shortly, before he schooled his face back into the mask of the friendly host. “Anyhow. As I said, perhaps this time we might be able to agree on a solution best for everyone.”

Geralt very much doubted that.

He was surprised not to be jumped by Stregobor’s followers the moment he walked through the door – he could hear at least a dozen heartbeats inside the tower. He was sure that just because it hasn’t happened yet, it won’t be absent for long. The magician wheeled them towards his peaceful looking garden and to Geralt’s surprise Jaskier was sitting by the fountain, tied to a chair and gagged. He was badly bruised up and had a split lip, making the cloth in his mouth bloody.

He yelled through the fabric gagging him, as soon as he saw the witcher and Geralt was sure he was saying his name. Jaskier was leaning forward in his chair as much as he could and two men beside him stepped forward, holding spears viciously pointing towards the bard, probably only waiting for Stregobor to give the command.

“How endearing.” The sorcerer said with poorly concealed disgust and Geralt had to concentrate to restrain himself from running to Jaskier. It would do no good to either of them, he was sure.

“What the fuck do you want?” Geralt barked at him and the sweet mask Stregobor was trying to hold up ever since the witcher’s arrival disappeared at once.

“To awake your dear soothsayer’s full potential. Just think about it, witcher. He could predict destruction and disasters, plagues and wars, everything that could harm humanity as a whole. If we’d know what to expect, we could avoid it. He could lead us to the way to an ideal society, if we just used him right.”

The way he said _used_ made Geralt tighten his hands into fists. The sorcerer always disguised his intentions as the _lesser evil_ , doing everything for the _greater good_.

“Ideal society doesn’t exist, you’re setting yourself up for disappointment.” Geralt told him gruffly, but his tone softened a little, when his eyes met with Jaskier’s. _How will they get out of this?_

“How would you know, witcher? You know only pain, you have no idea what great humans can do with great prophecies.”

“I can imagine.” He said dryly and Stregobor just waved him off.

“Think of it this way then; the soothsayer could save many lives over time. This is his obligation, his _destiny_.”

Before Geralt could answer Stregobor clicked his fingers and two men appeared by his side, grabbing his arms and holding their spears against his throat. If he weren’t sure that they were sorcerers, he would risk breaking out of their hold, but he had to keep his head right. He couldn’t make rushed decisions; this time there was much more on the line, than ever before. If Jaskier would get injured because of his resistance, it would be all futile. Geralt looked at the bard desperately and he could see tears in the corner of his eyes.

“I hope you actually believe that.” Geralt grunted at Stregobor, his eyes jumping between him and Jaskier. “I can tell you from experience; you can’t cheat destiny.”

Stregobor smiled at him coldly and took a few lazy steps towards him.

“Don’t worry yourself on my account, witcher.” He turned around and waved one of his girls to himself. She carried over a little bottle of a dark green liquid and Stregobor held it up gleefully, before he stalked over to Jaskier.

Geralt struggled against his captors, much the same way as Jaskier was withering in his chair, between his own guards and the sorcerer. Geralt was close to losing any remaining piece of logic that told him it wouldn’t be beneficial to be impaled. He wanted to get to the bard, no matter what.

“Don’t fret.” He was talking mainly to Jaskier, but it was meant for both of them. “It’s only a mild poison, it won’t kill you, but I need you to be perfectly harmless for the transfer.”

“Transfer? What are you talking about?” Geralt asked frantically, struggling against the men beside him with such strength that it moved them a few feet closer to the sorcerer and Jaskier.

Stregobor turned back to him with such a calm demeanour that Geralt forgot to move for a second.

“You didn’t think I would leave the fate of the entire world in the incompetent hands of this fool.” For this Jaskier muffled something into the cloth in his mouth indignantly and Geralt thought it was really not the time to take offence from verbal injuries. “He _is_ the key to an ideal society, but he is not the vessel. I shall take that burden from him.”

Geralt could feel both spearheads digging into his skin on either sides of his neck, hard enough to break skin, but he had to try to get closer, he had to do _something_. He watched as Stregobor pulled the bloody fabric out of the bard’s mouth and dropped it down into his neck.

“You must be even more insane than I thought, if you think I will drink that!” Jaskier screamed at him as soon as he was able to and the sorcerer slapped him across the face sharply, without even flinching.

“Didn’t I tell you, I will not tolerate your nonsense?” Stregobor asked with hot white rage, not even trying to cover it up anymore; he always took badly for insults. He uncorked the bottle and tried to put it to Jaskier’s mouth, but the bard was keep pulling his head away. Stregobor snapped his fingers and the two guards beside them took Jaskier into a very similar position that Geralt found himself just seconds ago. With the two spears pointing closely at his throat, he had no choice than to drink.

And Geralt struggled and pulled; he managed to grab the spear on his right side and push into the face of its owner, who collapsed on first contact. But the other one took advantage of his position and stabbed Geralt into his side, making him fall onto his knees. He could tell that he damaged at least two of his organs badly enough that it would be a long healing process. But that might just be far enough into the future that he didn’t have to worry about it after all.

His gaze met Jaskier’s and it was like admitting defeat. He mouthed a painful “sorry” and Jaskier squeezed his eyes shut.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update, but on the brightside here is the last chapter, with a tiny epilogue in addition. Enjoy!

Jaskier was drifting in and out of consciousness. He could still feel the bitter taste of the poison on his tongue and his limbs felt numb to the point where he wasn’t even sure if he could move them. His eyes found Geralt, who was kneeling on the ground and even in all the blurriness he could clearly see the blood making his shirt wet and dripping on the ground.

He distantly felt the ropes around his body being loosened, but there was nothing he could do right now, but watch and listen, as fuzzy as everything was.

“Kill the witcher, he’ll just be in the way.” He heard Stregobor’s voice and it sounded like he was talking through a barrel. It took Jaskier long moments, or maybe even minutes to understand what he was ordering his men to do. Hot white panic filled his heart, but for the thought of losing Geralt it quickly turned into a bottomless fear, then he felt nothing, but pure rage.

Suddenly Jaskier couldn’t see anything anymore, but white all over anywhere he turned his head; it was like being blinded by pure light. There was no up and no down to be distinguished and it felt like how he imagined flying must have felt like.

His entire body was aching and his head and heart was full of fear and despair that he wasn’t sure was his own. He could smell blood, smoke and burned flesh.

He heard muffled sounds and screams breaking through the white fog and he could feel death in a way never before, in a way he couldn’t explain it.

“Jaskier” came a dulled voice from somewhere not far. It was distorted and hard to hear over the screams filling his ears.

His body and his soul felt too light and too heavy at the very same time and he saw it. He saw everything that has ever been and might be. He saw the source, the core. _He saw true chaos._

“Jaskier”

.

.

.

“Jaskier”

_Geralt?_

*

Geralt watched Jaskier’s head loll from side to side and even though Stregobor said the poison wouldn’t kill him, he wasn’t sure he could take his word for it.

“Kill the witcher, he’ll just be in the way.” Stregobor barked out and to his order at least six more men walked into the garden from behind the pillars.

He considered his situation; he had his swords and his signs, but he was injured and up against ten sorcerers, he had little to no chance at all. It was sure suicide. But maybe, if he could hold out long enough, then he could win enough time for Jaskier to escape. But even then, without a healer he wouldn’t get far. It was still his best shot.

He stood up, pushing the man closest to him aside and grabbing his spear, throwing it to the ground and unsheathing his sword he cut his throat with one swift motion. He expected curses and spells to fly at him any moment, but nothing happened.

He looked around himself and found that all the magicians, even Stregobor were holding their heads, in obvious pain, bending over with their weapons on the ground. As his eyes flickered over to Jaskier, he froze.

The bard was levitating; his body limp in the air. The whole scene was surreal, but Geralt couldn’t turn away. Jaskier’s body was glowing softly, but its light was strengthening in the same time as the sorcerers were collapsing onto the ground, their skin burning without any fire touching it. Was this… Jaskier’s doing?

Suddenly there was an oval shaped light shining through the bard’s forehead, it wasn’t big, about the size of an eye. _A third eye_ , Geralt realised and reckoned this must have been the transfiguration Vesemir was talking about. Screams and groans filled the air, as the men around them burned and burned and now there was light breaking through seemingly every single pore of Jaskier’s body, enveloping everything in a harsh, white light.

“Jaskier!” Geralt tried to stop him, not for the sake of Stregobor’s men, but out of worry it might kill the bard too.

The bodies around him started to topple over lifelessly, one by one, slowly dying in embers, until they left nothing in their places, but ashes.

“Jaskier!”

He tried to make his way over to him, but the light had sort of a power, a force, pushing him backwards, making moving harder, than it should have been normally.

Suddenly the light died down and Jaskier’s body fell to the ground gracelessly. He wasn’t moving.

“Jaskier!” Geralt yelled again desperately and ran over to him, now that the light couldn’t keep him away.

He kneeled down on the ground and cradled the bard’s head onto his thighs, smoothing some hair out of his face. There was a small, fading line of light there, like an outline of a closed eye.

“Jaskier, come on.” He stroked his cheek with the back of his hand; the bruises and dried blood from before were gone without leaving a trace.

To his relief Jaskier started to stir a little and frowned, before he finally opened his eyes, very slowly.

“Geralt? Are you… okay?” He croaked and Geralt smiled at him and as he blinked, he noticed something wet falling onto Jaskier’s cheeks. “Geralt?” Jaskier sounded actually scared this time, so he pulled him into a hard hug and closed his eyes for a second and breathed in his scent under all the smoke and blood. It changed; he could still recognise it, but there was something irregular about it.

He pulled back a little and frowned at Jaskier. “I’m fine. Can you tell me what happened?”

The bard averted his gaze for a moment, but when he looked back he seemed much less dazed. “I showed them everything. The past, the present, possibilities and choices. They couldn’t take it – the magic burned them from the inside out.” Jaskier said darkly and he sat up with a serious expression.

“How?” Geralt wanted to ask a lot of questions, but suddenly he felt like his voice was stuck half-way in his throat.

“You can’t make something out of nothing. With chaos, there has to be balance all the time. I suppose I gave my experiences for this.” He answered with a sigh and Geralt tried to understand what he actually meant.

“Your experiences?”

“Everything I ever did or lived through. Everything that left a mark on me.”

“I don’t understand.” He hated to admit defeat, but when it came to Jaskier, things were always different.

“This is… I think the easiest way to put it is that it wasn’t actually a transfiguration, more like a renewal.” When Geralt still looked at him puzzled, Jaskier pulled up his sleeve to show him his forearm. “You remember that scar right there,” he pointed at the entirely smooth skin on his arm “that I got when that cockatrice almost nipped me in half.”

He remembered, but it was a slight exaggeration. Indeed, it would have happened if not for Geralt decapitating it in time, but he barely touched Jaskier. The meaning of what the bard just told him finally sunk in.

“You have a new body?”

“Mm” He nodded and the colour started to return into his face. “Can we please get out of here now?” He looked around and Geralt could absolutely understand him.

“Sure.”

Geralt helped Jaskier onto his feet and they were both leaning against each other as they left the tower. As they stepped outside, it was dark and Geralt sighed a little in relief.

They passed through Blaviken without stirring up a soul and Geralt led them to the spot in the forest where he left the horses. They were still waiting there, unharmed.

*

“Can I show you something?” Jaskier asked a little timidly and Geralt nodded slowly.

They made camp in the woods for the night, Geralt needed to heal and rest, even with his potions and Jaskier’s aiding salves.

“Okay.” Jaskier took a deep breath and then he held his arms out and suddenly there were hundreds of fireflies around them, lighting up the night. There were a couple of rabbits and a few deer too, like they just sprung out of the ground. They were perfectly normal, just like anything nature would create herself.

“How?” Geralt asked in awe, a little cautiously and Jaskier felt a touch bitter, but he tried not to show it.

“They aren’t real. They look real and they even feel real. But they aren’t. They’re just manifestations of what my mind can create. To put it in simpler terms; I create an illusion that is real to our minds, visible and” Jaskier petted a rabbit who let him eagerly “very much tangible. But if I know that,” he put his entire forearm through the rabbit's body and it didn’t even flinch and as he pulled it back there was no sign that it ever even happened, the animal just hopped away to chew at some grass beside them, “I can just ignore it.”

Geralt looked at him pensively.

“And if you don’t?” He asked gruffly.

“Then I am only going to do what I suppose is possible in this realm; do as I would normally do. Stroke a bunny, run from a bear.” He tried to decipher the look in the witcher’s eyes, but it wasn’t easy. Just to make sure he answered every question that might come up, he added: “Being eaten by a bear. It’s all down to knowledge and perception.”

“What are they? Do they–?”

“Think themselves to be real? In a way.” He inclined his head a little. “They don’t have the same complexity of thought that you and I have. They have a minimal amount of will on their own, but otherwise they are under my control entirely. They cannot go rogue, as if I let go,” he turned towards a deer that started walking towards them. The deer just stopped and didn’t move at all, it was breathing and it was alive, but it had no purpose, so it didn’t go anywhere.

Geralt frowned at him as Jaskier was sure he was thinking him cruel; he knew that Geralt wasn’t so much for magical folks in the first place, mainly because of their god-complex and meddling with other people's and creatures’ lives.

“I cannot conjure humans.” Jaskier said gravely. “I can conjure things that only non-sentient or semi-sentient, I can create things with pure resemblance of reality, but I can create monsters of my own imagination too. They have no emotions on their own, nor thoughts of any sort. They only exist if I wish them to and disappear if I don’t.”

Geralt was looking at him with wary eyes still and Jaskier sighed.

“On the other hand. I do not wish to evaporate creatures of my own creation. It would be like writing a great song and never sing it. I simply put them where I can always find them, if I wish to.” Geralt cocked his head to the side thoughtfully. “Here.” Jaskier pointed at his temple with his index finger and he could see Geralt visibly relax to that.

He just realised that Geralt was probably afraid that now, that he became a being of another realm, he became a different person. But what really happened was, he was _always_ an otherworldly creature, but now he opened the door that granted access for him to it, but as long as his third eye stayed close, he was grounded in this plane. He was still the very same person he always had been and now Geralt seemed to be convinced as such too, because he dared a few tentative steps towards Jaskier and he crouched down to a white rabbit and stroked its soft fur, then he slowly put his fingers through its ears without any sort of resistance and the bunny looked up at him curiously, in the same fashion Geralt looked at Jaskier.

“I could _never_ deceive or mislead you, as you know the full nature of my powers and you would always doubt the existence of a being, if I might be involved. Also, I would _never_ do anything like that, ever. And I hope you know that.”

Geralt nodded slowly.

“Because I’m still me. Nothing changed, okay?”

He nodded again and Jaskier still didn’t feel satisfied.

“What are you going to do with this power of yours?”

Jaskier thought about it for a few brief seconds and then shrugged.

“Trying to forget about them as long as I can? I mean, it’s not like I need them for singing.”

Geralt smiled at him a little in amusement and Jaskier let out a long puff of air he didn’t know he was holding.

“I’m sorry I’ve dragged you into this.” Jaskier said quietly and he averted his gaze, but he could hear the witcher’s steps in the grass. He fell onto his knees in front of him with a soft thud and pulled him into his arms.

“Don’t apologise.”

Jaskier could feel tears welling up in his eyes and a few even ran down his cheeks, as they escaped from under his closed eyelids.


	7. Chapter 7

“So why are we still doing this? I mean we already know the full extent of my powers.” Jaskier asked as he walked around the pond, barely touching its surface. This much was true.

It has been almost a week since his transfiguration and since Stregobor tried to strip him of his powers.

“Because I like you in here. It’s more… personal.” Despite the fact that it sounded like someone was holding a sword to Geralt’s throat, hearing it warmed Jaskier’s heart instantly.

“Geralt, you big softy.”

Geralt just grunted in response, like saying ‘fuck off’, but Jaskier just waved it off. He’s known Geralt for a long time now and he was confident that he knew him enough to know he meant nothing by it. Well, to be exact he knew it for a _fact_ , just as he knew everything now.

It was hard. To experience all the truth in the world all the time, while feeling everything he felt as himself, Jaskier, the bard, the soothsayer. Despite knowing everything, he wasn’t sure he was still entirely himself.

“What’s wrong?” Geralt asked with a hint of worry in his voice. Jaskier tried to push aside the thought of it the past few days, but he knew that he couldn’t go on without talking about this with Geralt forever. He sat down on the stones by the pond and patted the empty spot beside himself and Geralt took it.

Jaskier sighed.

“It’s. It’s a lot. Look, I… are you sure you want to do this? With me, I mean. Because, you know you don’t have to, you can just leave me behind, if you don’t think you can handle it. I’d… understand.”

Geralt looked him in the eyes for an impossibly long time, before a little frown appeared on his brows.

“No.” Jaskier’s eyes widened. “Fuck. I mean, no I won’t leave you behind, don’t be a fool. I know, it changes things. Some things. But not the important ones.”

Jaskier studied his face, thinking it funny that he knew everything, but not what to say. Geralt took his hand in both of his own and draw tiny circles on Jaskier’s skin with his thumb. He took a deep breath and.

“I love you. A bard, a soothsayer, this… being. Whatever. You are important to me and I won’t make the mistake of turning away from you _ever again_.”

Jaskier sucked his bottom lip into his mouth and nodded sharply.

“Good. Good. Because I love you too and I was actually very terrified that you would.” He pulled his hand away softly, just to drape himself on the witcher with a big hug and he felt frustration drain away with his tears, smeared onto Geralt’s cheek and hair.

Jaskier felt Geralt big hands on his back, making slow lines on it through the fabric of his doublet.

“So. What do you want to do now that we’re here?” Geralt asked quietly as they pulled apart and Jaskier’s face brightened up and he tried to wipe away the tears quickly, but it was hard, since they were keep flowing and flowing.

“There is something I want to show you.” He took both of Geralt hands and pulled him up into a standing position. He planted a fast kiss onto his lips and they both closed their eyes.

When they opened them again, Jaskier could see the amusement and shock clearly sitting on the witcher’s face.

“What is… this?” He asked, as he looked around. Jaskier beamed at him proudly.

“This is. This is us, in me.”

They stood in bright white light, on a field of green grass and not anything in sight, but the blue sky and memories like pictures swimming in the air, chasing each other in a slow race. He watched as Geralt walked closer to examine them, reaching out, but touching nothing. But Jaskier knew that he felt it, every time his fingers made contact with one. He felt what Jaskier felt in those memories. The love, the kindness, the care.

He turned back to Jaskier and he could swear his eyes were brighter than he’d ever seen them.

“Is this how you feel? Around me?”

“Yeah.” Jaskier said sheepishly. “Nothing ever made me happier, than when you’ve let me in. And I don’t mean the contact, I mean the small things you do for me all the time that you think I don’t know about. Like getting up in the middle of the night to put more kindling on the fire to keep me warm, or when you’re checking the shoes on Perla’s hooves and when you stop to make camp, even though you could go on for another day with no problem. I don’t know these, because of _what_ I am. I know these things, because _I know you_ and I just wanted to show you” he gestured around them vaguely “this.”

Geralt pulled him into a tight hug without a word and buried his face into Jaskier’s neck. He placed a hand softly on the top of his head and the other on the base of his spine.

“You’ve let me in so many times. It’s only fair that I let you in too.”

They pulled apart, but only by mere inches.

“It’s beautiful.” Geralt said and Jaskier smiled at him warmly.

Most of the times things were difficult, but when they weren’t? He tried to ignore what he knew, it was a mass of information about everyone and everything and it was painful at times. But he’ll learn to control it, for sure.

But there was one thing Jaskier was happy to know and he didn’t need his connection to chaos to tell him this: he’ll be sharing his life with Geralt for a long, long time.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading and as you all know: kudos and comments are love and power and they are much appreciated.  
> Stay safe everyone!


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